During the one-hour flight from San Jose to Burbank I try to get clear on why
I am on this plane, on my way to a conference that I know almost nothing
about.

I know that the conference, titled "Forward Motion," will be an international
gathering of female-to-male transsexuals, together with their friends,
lovers, and allies, for a weekend of workshops, cultural events, networking,
and mutual support. "Celebrating Cultures, Advocacy and FTM Lives" reads the
somewhat predictable conference subtitle. My friend Jamison (James) Green, a
leading FTM advocate, assures me that it will be a significant event -- only
the fourth time that FTMs have come together in such large numbers, and the
first time in over two years.

James knows that I have long been interested in transgender issues, both as a
journalist and as an individual questioning the assumptions of traditional
gender roles and gender identity, and that I consider the issues raised by
the mutability of gender to be significant far beyond the community of people
who are themselves transgendered. He is subtle, but he strongly encourages me
to go. People will be there from all over the world. There will be workshops
on all aspects of transgender issues, art exhibits, a slide show of Loren
Cameron's photography. He'll be there. My friend Mariette Pathy Allen, who
has been doing wonderful photography in the trans community for years will be
there. How can I resist, even if the conference comes at an inconvenient
time?

James has played a big role in my expanding interest, understanding, and
awareness of transgender issues, as he has with thousands of other people. I
first met him some ten years ago at a party in San Francisco. A woman friend
had been dating him, ever since she interviewed him for an article she was
writing about female-to-male transsexuals. At the party, forgetting that she
has told me she is dating a transsexual man, she watches to see if I can tell
that James is not genetically male. Without her advance information, the
thought would never have crossed my mind. James gives no sense of gender
ambiguity. His stance, posture, voice, and gestures are, if anything,
exceptionally "male." He is handsome, confident, articulate, and outgoing,
with a full, dark, trim beard and twinkly eyes.

We talk easily and warmly. He tells me the story of his transition from woman
to man, and of how his transition overturned his previously lesbian
relationship, and therefore his relationship with the two children he and his
partner shared as well. James was in deep anguish over this recent and ugly
turn of events, but he told the story of his betrayal with more understanding
than anger, more amazement than bitterness. I was moved by the depth of his
compassion for a partner who had so deeply and, I thought, so unfairly hurt
him.

I was also struck by how similar James's questions and dilemmas about male
images and roles were to my own. We both deeply valued our masculinity. We
were both deeply repelled by much of how male roles and masculinity had come
to be defined by mainstream culture. We were both devoted to our children and
to the meaning that being fathers had brought into our lives. We were both
sexually active and curious. We said "me, too" and "I feel exactly the same
way" so many times that we began to laugh at both the irony and the
underlying sensibility of our similarities.

My introduction to the FTM community also came through James a couple of
years later, at his 50th birthday party, where thirty or forty people
gathered to celebrate James and the influence he had on their lives. At the
party, I feel like something of an outsider since my connection to the
transgender community is so slight, but my discomfort quickly evaporates as I
fall into easy, personal conversations with different welcoming strangers. I
am struck by the warmth, openness, and genuineness of the people I meet,
their relative lack of pretense and chatter. They tell me the rich,
complicated, and often painful stories of their lives -- straightforwardly
and with remarkably little hesitation; with commitment, but little fanfare.
Stories of realizing that they felt distinctly male, even though their bodies
at birth were just as distinctly female. Stories of gathering the courage to
affirm who they knew themselves to be, despite the inevitable upset and
misunderstanding of the people around them. Stories of entering a process of
hormonal, and in some cases surgical, gender shift, to bring their physical
bodies into line with their emotional realities. And stories of finding ways
to deal with the misunderstanding, scorn, ridicule, hostility, and even
violence of people whose gender realities had no room for anyone who fell
outside the simple duality of genitally-defined men and women.

I came away from the evening moved and confused. It had been a long time
since I had felt so solidly connected and so deeply comfortable as I felt
with this community of relative strangers whose bond with each other was one
that I did not share. What was it about being in this group that felt so
sane, so correct, so confirming? Why did these people feel so much like me,
in some fundamental way? Did I have more personal questions about my own
gender identity than I was aware of? Or was there something about the
essential spirit of this group that went beyond the specific issue of gender
transformation?

I arrive at the conference early Thursday evening and try to get oriented. I
see lots of people reuniting with old friends, delighting in the special way
marginalized people celebrate when they have an opportunity to clear
collective space within which they will be the rule rather than the
exceptions. (Jews sometimes talk this way about how it feels to be in Israel,
and African-Americans have said the same about visiting post-colonial Africa.
Everyone enjoys having a homeland.)

People from the conference organizing committee welcome me enthusiastically.
(I am press and therefore have a specific function to play.) They fill me in
on the process of pulling the conference together. While large conferences
are relatively common among male-to-female transsexuals, this is only the
fourth conference of this sort for FTMs. The first, held in San Francisco in
1995, drew about 400 people. Two subsequent gatherings followed in Seattle
(1996) and Boston (1997), organized by local FTM groups. This is the first
time an FTM conference is being held in the relative luxury of a major
hotel.

Happily, I am told, the hotel's management has been cooperative and
respectful throughout the conference planning process. "They have been
completely professional," says Nick Adams who has been handling hotel
liaison. "Right from the start, they sent a letter addressed tome as 'Mr.
Nick Adams' -- and this was before I was on hormones, when I looked much more
female than I do now. When we showed up to do sensitivity training for staff,
the hotel had already raised all the issues we were going to bring up -- most
notably about courtesy and respect, and also dealing with the public bathroom
issue."

(Hotel policy would be that any guest could use whichever public bathroom
they chose. If a non-conference guest complained, they would be educated on
the ethics of bathroom choice for trans people.)

My press packet includes a tip sheet emphasizing confidentiality and privacy.
Even material presented at workshops, and the identities of workshop leaders,
are to be considered confidential unless people give permission to be quoted
and named. A "transgender style guide" offers orientation to language issues
specific to transgender concerns: distinguishing between sex (assigned at
birth according to bodily characteristics), gender (a person's internal sense
of being a man or a woman), and sexual orientation (who a person is attracted
to sexually); substituting respectful terms for those that have become
pejorative or sensationalized in the media ("sex reassignment surgery" rather
than "sex-change operation," "cross-dresser" rather than "transvestite"); and
particular attention to the use of gender pronouns. ("Ask the person which
pronoun they would like you to use. A person who identifies as a certain
gender should be referred to as that gender.") Matters of simple
understanding and respect -- basic, yet sometimes not easily obtained.

Friday morning's all-conference meeting welcomes everyone and exults in
having brought such a large and widespread group of trans and trans-friendly
people together in one place. Over 400 people are registered for the
conference, coming from all parts of the U.S., and from such other countries
as Canada, France, England, Australia, and Iran, to have three days, as one
organizer puts it, "in the company of our peers."

The conference program lists a rather overwhelming spectrum of over 130
workshops, covering topics that range from the personal to the
anthropological, from the historical to the medical, from the emotional to
the political. There are workshops not only for transgendered people
themselves, but for their significant others, families, and friends as
well.

Kit Rachlin, a New York therapist, presents a study of therapy issues
particular to transgendered clients. She notes that therapists play an
unusual role for trans clients in that they are the gatekeepers for
gender-related medical services such as prescribing hormones and authorizing
surgery. Most FTMs in therapy, she reports, have had or are considering "top
surgery" (mastectomies), while fewer contemplate genital surgery. Among
people considering genital reconstruction, more choose metoidioplasty (in
which a testosterone-enlarged clitoris is freed to function as a small
phallus) than phalloplasty (where an artificial phallus is constructed out of
muscle tissue taken from an arm or a leg). Metoidioplasty involves
significantly lower risk and is far less expensive. Rachlin emphasizes how
the Internet has played a revolutionary role in educating trans people about
both the possibilities and the dangers of genital surgery. Over 60% of
clients surveyed had seen photos of, or been introduced to, people who had
actually had genital surgery, she said.

A workshop on "Relating to People Outside the Queer Community" provides an
opportunity for trans people to share experiences and strategies for dealing
with friends, neighbors, and co-workers. Several people talk of how difficult
it is to be openly trans at home, while carefully closeted at work. Most are
sure that they would have to deal with extreme ostracism and hostility if
their neighbors or co-workers knew who they really were.

Isolation is an issue that comes up again and again -- being the only trans
person, or one of a very small group. One man lives in a small town in
Montana. If people in his town knew he was genetically female, the
consequences would be severe. ("Get out of Montana," someone quickly advises,
as if leaving one's home were that easy.) The shadow of Brandon Teena, the
trans man who, when discovered, was raped and murdered in a small Nebraska
town, hangs over everyone. Teena's case is unusual, but violence against
trans men and women is not. One man tells of moving to a new state when he
began his transition, so that he could start a new life where no one had ever
known him as a woman.

Men who spent years as butch lesbians before deciding to go into transition,
speak of the culture shock of moving from a lesbian world into the culture of
heterosexual men. Many are shocked and offended by the misogyny and
homophobia they find around them, but cautious about challenging terms like
"bitch" and "fag" because they are afraid to draw attention to
themselves.

Others, often people who live in metropolitan areas with emerging or
developed trans communities, emphasize the importance of being public about
their authentic selves, even if it makes the people around them
uncomfortable. "I'm told I smile too much and look people in the eye to much
[for a straight man]," one says, "but that's just who I am." An executive in
a large corporation is sure that being clear about who you are can transform
the way people respond. "If I'm walking around afraid," he says, "everyone's
going to be afraid of me, but if I don't project uncertainty, it's another
story."

At a very different workshop, California anthropologist Jeffrey Dickemann
(who transitioned from woman to man at age 65) reads a paper on the
long-standing, socially-sanctioned role of "sworn virgin" that allows women
to become men among the various Muslim, Serbian Orthodox, and Roman Catholic
mountain cultures of Serbia, Montenegro, and northern Albania. Reported by
travelers and anthropologists for well over a century, these cultures allow
pubescent women to swear lifelong celibacy before a council of tribal elders
and thereafter live, work, dress, smoke, carry arms, engage in warfare, and
share the substantial cultural privileges of being men, without social stigma
of any kind. Changing gender is not something specific to American or Western
culture. Nor, as it turns out, is it new historically. Indeed, the rigidity wi
th which our culture addresses gender is unusual, in the broader picture of
things.

Plenary sessions discuss issues of more general concern. One is devoted to
airing long-standing tensions between the newer and smaller male-to-female
community and its more well-established female-to-male counterpart. Conflicts
between the two groups are hardly surprising. "What MTFs are busy
discarding," notes panelist Jessica Xavier, "FTMs are saying is important to
them." Outreach to trans women has been a specific goal of the conference,
and one of the big successes of the weekend is the welcome that is felt by
the trans women present, and the climate of mutual respect and concern that
emerges.

Another plenary is devoted to medical issues, a universal transgender concern
and frequent nightmare. Alejandro Daviko Marcel, director of the
Massachusetts Public Health Department's Transgender Education Network,
speaks of progress in getting doctors to treat trans patients with respect
and understand their circumstances and health care needs. He notes recent
shifts in the state-sanctioned Standards of Medical Practice in
Massachusetts. On a more pessimistic note, James Green notes many medical
interventions commonly covered by insurance are still often refused as
non-essential when requested by trans people. Marcel and Lori Kohler, a
doctor and professor of medicine, answer dozens of nuts and bolts questions,
offering advice on how to negotiate the labyrinths of medical and insurance
resistance in order to get proper medical care and insurance coverage.

Aside from being an opportunity for education and networking, the
conference is also a celebration of community, and an affirmation of the
growing public awareness and political clout of the movement for
transgender rights. A Friday night evening of entertainment features a
hilarious and elaborately produced version of "The Dating Game," emceed by
longtime gender advocate and immaculate stage personality Kate Bornstein
(author of Gender Outlaw, The Opposite Sex Is Neither, and
Hidden: A Gender), as well as the sultry, powerful music of trans
singer/songwriter Veronica Klaus, accurately described by SF Weekly
magazine as "Vanessa Williams, Cat Woman, and Jessica Rabbit rolled into
one."

"Trans Art 99," is an exhibit of art, sculpture, and photography by and about
trans people. An ongoing program shows videos on transgender issues including
two important documentaries, "You Don't Know Dick" and "The Brandon Teena
Story." On Saturday night, James Green presents a beautiful and powerful
slide show of groundbreaking imagery by trans photographer Loren
Cameron.

By the time the conference closes late Sunday afternoon, it is clear to
everyone that it has been an overwhelming success. FTMs, MTFs, significant
others, friends, health care providers, and allies have all felt welcome as
both participants and presenters. A spirit of respect, acceptance, loving
support, and cooperation has brought everyone together into an atmosphere of
shared community, despite the group's many differences of opinion,
circumstance, and perspective.

At a final town meeting, dozens of people speak of how important the weekend
has been for them. For many the conference has been an opportunity to break
out of isolation, and they speak of the importance of realizing that they are
not alone. One man from Iran, "a country that is killing trans people
whenever we are discovered," thanks the group for giving him the strength to
go on with his life. Others speak gratefully of the love, support, and
encouragement they have received, of how they will go home with new strength,
courage, and commitment. One speaker specifically thanks the MTF people who
have attended, drawing cheers from everyone. A trans man in his 20s thanks
the conference for giving him access to older trans people, people who he
values as role models for his own journey. Someone from Minneapolis, a city
with a surprisingly well-developed trans community, suggests the possibility
of having the next large conference there.

The issue of gender is a fundamental one. By confronting the established
notion that people are simply born male or female and therefore destined to
pursue fixed, gender-determined paths, roles, and lifestyles, transgendered
people are raising issues that also have important meaning for people who are
quite happy with their birth genders. A basic sense of creativity and
empowerment, of the possibility of making more of one's life than the choices
dealt out by society. The importance of staying true to who we know ourselves
to be, even when social roles push and pull us in other directions. The
freedom that comes of taking your life with both hands and claiming it as
your own. The strength of finding a community of like-minded people, of
having the context of a supportive culture to counteract the toxins of social
conformity.

Not surprisingly, I came away from Forward Motion moved, challenged, and
delighted to have spent the weekend in such a radical and simply sensible
environment. Most of all, I was impressed by the courage of so many different
individuals who had chosen to pursue the heart and soul of who they know
themselves to be, despite guaranteed emotional, financial, and relational
hardship, and the likelihood of ongoing danger, conflict, scorn, ridicule,
and social ostracism.

One might think that people who are wrestling with such profound issues, and
who are so powerfully feared and misunderstood by outsiders, would for the
most part be severely emotionally damaged, and there are certainly many
transgendered people who are deeply troubled emotionally. But, all in all,
the people at Forward Motion were exceptionally sane, responsible,
thoughtful, loving, undefended, spontaneous, and mature -- a relief from the
confusion and artificiality of what is generally considered "normal" American
existence.

Of course, the experience of being at a conference of this sort -- of
creating and inhabiting a common place of safety and support -- brings out
the best in everybody. But the collective statement about the importance of
pursuing lives based on real personal integrity is unmistakable. The
individual and collective authenticity that comes from knowing who you really
are, believing in yourself, and pursuing your inner destiny despite obstacles
and difficulties, is something worth struggling for, even at the cost of
social acceptability and ease. The personal benefits are both deep and far
reaching. Generosity of spirit, lack of defensiveness, acceptance of other
people for who they are, the ability to spontaneously experience joy and
love, dealing with life creatively day to day, and the security of having
your feet firmly planted on the ground, all immediately come to mind. Not to
mention the sense of soulful reality that comes from reaching through layers
of artifice and pretense to find what for each of us is truly
meaningful.

There are already tens of thousands of transgendered people, people who do
not identify as men or women, traditionally defined, who are in the process
of redefining their gender in order to more creatively express who they
really are. As both FTM and MTF trans communities and individuals become more
publicly visible, and as mainstream culture becomes increasingly aware of
these issues and possibilities, the numbers of trans people is going to
increase dramatically. Issues related to the mutability of gender are already
cropping up frequently in mainstream culture, and in more positive and
appreciative ways than one might expect. The question of personal
authenticity, which lies at the heart of the transgender movement, is ripe
for all Americans who are tired of the repetitiveness, superficiality, and
sham of everything from politicians to television to supermarket food.

[This column was originally published in Spectator Magazine (see www.spectator.net). Three books by David Steinberg -- "Photo Sex," "Erotic by Nature: A
Celebration of Life, of Love, and of Our Wonderful Bodies," and "The Erotic Impulse:
Honoring the Sensual Self," are available from David by mail order at
eronat@aol.com. If you would like to receive Comes Naturally columns, and other writing by
David Steinberg, regularly via email, send your name and email address to David
at eronat@aol.com. Columns are sent as
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